


Zemra Ime

by t_verano



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Kid fic but only a little bit sort of, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-22 17:59:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13769520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_verano/pseuds/t_verano
Summary: Written for my TS Bingo card prompt "singing."





	Zemra Ime

**Author's Note:**

> For a translation of the title, see the end notes.

Jim pulled Sweetheart into her usual parking space and turned off the engine with a sigh. Long day. Long, frustrating day, with the joyless prospect of some kind of tofu and kelp - _kelp,_ for fuck's sake - crap for dinner. ("Jim, I can almost _hear_ your arteries clogging up after all the WonderBurgers you've eaten this week. Time to detox a little, my friend. I've got a great recipe. They used to serve it at a commune in Vermont Naomi and I stayed at for a while when I was a kid. Totally cool place; they had this amazing ritual they'd developed -" a ritual about which Jim remained blissfully unaware, having opted out of paying even a pretense of attention at that point. Too bad he couldn't opt out of dinner.)

As he got out of the truck and headed towards the lobby door, he deliberately dialed his senses down to 'Average (not knowing how lucky he is) Joe on the street'. No point in borrowing trouble - or casseroles constructed primarily out of seaweed and soybeans - before it was absolutely necessary. 

That explained why, three minutes later, unlocking the loft door and stepping inside left him feeling sandbagged. 

An all too familiar feeling in the Sandburg Zone, unfortunately. "Sandburg, what the _fuck?_ " he demanded. 

" _Shhh,_ " Blair hissed, emphatically but extremely quietly, accompanying his command with an abbreviated movement of his head that managed to chide Jim at the same time it pointed out the obvious. 

Which, in this case, was the baby in his arms. The very obvious baby. 

This day just kept getting better and better. Jim raised his eyebrows in frustration, but adjusted the volume of his voice to a whisper. "My question stands."

"This is Elspeth," Blair said, his voice so nearly inaudible that Jim had to crank up his hearing a couple of notches. "And she's finally asleep, and I will make you pay if you wake her up. Endlessly. Inventively. Do. Not. Wake. Her. Up." The fierceness of the look he was bestowing on Jim vanished as he looked down at the blanket-wrapped bundle in his arms. Now he just looked... besotted. 

And that was potentially worrying, and not exactly an answer to Jim's still-standing question. 

Unless it was. Jim narrowed his gaze. "Please tell me Elspeth isn't a souvenir from your train wreck of a dating life."

Blair rolled his eyes. "Elspeth's parents are friends of mine." He looked down at the baby again, and his expression instantly softened. "Ajola calls me Elspeth's _dajë_."

Jim wasn't about to breathe a sigh of relief until he knew what 'dahjuh' actually meant. "Which is..."

He paused inquiringly, and Blair obliged without looking up from his armful of infant. "Ajola's Albanian-American; _dajë_ means 'uncle' in Albanian. And no, I'm not literally Elspeth's uncle any more than I'm her father; it's an honorary thing."

The postponed sigh of relief was just about ready to roll, but one important question still remained. Jim cleared his throat (very, very quietly). "And what, exactly, is she doing here?"

Blair looked up. "Liam - Elspeth's dad - was in an accident. He's going to be okay, but Ajola needed to be with him, and their usual sitter is out of town until tomorrow. I didn't have to teach this afternoon, and you didn't need me - hey, how did Tomlinson's questioning go, anyway? did you get what you needed? - so, here we are." He glanced down again at the small object in his arms and his besotted expression returned instantly. "Babysitting."

"Babysitting," Jim echoed, admittedly a little hollowly. It was far better than the scenario of Bringing Up (Blair's) Baby he'd initially feared, but still, babies involved dirty diapers and crying (and, apparently, sucking up Blair's attention like a vacuum cleaner on steroids). It wasn't that Jim didn't _like_ babies; he liked them just fine. But it'd been a long day, and he was tired, and he was going to have to eat kelp for dinner. Life owed him a break. Or two. 

Blair tore his gaze away from the baby again and gave Jim a distracted-looking smile. "Don't worry, Ajola will pick her up after the hospital kicks her out, should be somewhere between nine and ten," he said. "And I put the used diapers in a garbage bag and stuck the bag out on the fire escape until I can get down to the dumpster, and Elspeth probably won't need a change before Ajola picks her up, so the most you should have to contend with is the breast milk in the refrigerator. As long as she stays asleep." Once again, his eyes abandoned Jim and planted themselves back on Elspeth. "Oh, and I didn't have time to make dinner, so you're on your own. If you want to do delivery, get me something, okay? I skipped lunch, and then Elspeth kept me too busy to think about eating. Just do us both a favor and listen out for the delivery guy and pick up the order downstairs so Elspeth doesn't get woken up by somebody at the door."

Huh. Right now Jim was prepared to not only dutifully like babies, but to like them one hell of a lot, above and beyond the call of duty. He looked at Elspeth with newborn respect: Elspeth, the powerful little person who had just banished the looming specter of Kelp and Pureed Tofu Casserole from Jim's evening. Maybe he could run down to the bodega over on Lindhurst later and buy her a binky. 

But more urgent business took precedence at the moment. "Pizza?" he said hopefully. And damned if Elspeth's baby magic didn't keep on delivering - Blair shrugged (carefully, to keep from jostling Magical Elspeth), and said, casually, "Works for me. It's probably the easiest thing for me to eat while I'm holding Elspeth anyway, and we've already found out she's not in the mood for me to put her down anywhere today." He bent to kiss the top of Elspeth's nearly bald head. "Haven't we, _zemra ime?_ "

++++++++++++

The pizza in all its pepperonied and sausaged glory was history and Jim was enjoying a celebratory second beer on the couch when Elspeth woke up.

First it was a series of tiny, almost charming baby noises - yawns and burbles. Then Elspeth's sound effects were followed by Blair addressing the baby unintelligibly (in Albanian, Jim assumed), in a low-toned, comfort-laden voice that made Jim want to stretch out on the couch and purr. 

Unfortunately, Elspeth wasn't quite as favorably affected as Jim: right in the middle of a particularly mellow-sounding (presumably Albanian) phrase, she started to cry. It wasn't a full-out wail, more like a quiet, grizzling sound of displeasure, but it was enough for Blair to start joggling her up and down gently in his arms and humming. 

No, singing. "Hush, little baby, don't say a word -"

His voice was quiet and warm, and...

" _Dajë'_ s gonna buy you a mockingbird -"

...and it wrapped around Jim like a cashmere blanket, and... 

"If that mockingbird won't sing -"

...and why didn't they have a rocking chair? 

" _Dajë'_ s gonna buy you a diamond ring -"

...and why weren't he and Blair sleeping together? 

They were everything else together. And they both wanted it, wanted that physical connection; being a sentinel was ninety percent pain in the ass, but knowing - with no doubt whatsoever - whether or not somebody wanted to sleep with you was not, in this case, a pain in the ass at all.

Not a pain in the ass, no, but he _had_ considered it to be a warning buoy urging caution. But tonight, listening to Blair with Elspeth, watching him, _seeing_ him, with his face lit up with love... Jim wanted that for himself. Tonight. Later tonight. No more caution. No more reservations. 

Maybe he was being selfish, but hell, Elspeth could still have her _dajë_. Occasionally. Just as long as Jim got plenty of Blair for himself. 

He smiled at Blair and Elspeth as Blair paced slowly up and down the length of the living room, still singing, and rocking the gradually quieting baby in his arms. "Chief," he said softly, breaking in over some improbable lyric about a dog, "come upstairs with me tonight." 

As a declaration of commitment, it was less than ideal, certainly less than romantic. But Blair, being Blair, got it. Clearly. He didn't stop singing to Elspeth, but he looked at Jim, really looked at Jim, and his face said, "Yes," and, "Finally," and, "Try and stop me," and "God, Jim, _yes,_ " and, "Yes yes yes absolutely _yes._ "

Finally. Tonight. Together. 

Jim looked at Elspeth again, who was now calmly and sleepily yawning in Blair's careful arms. Obviously, there were unsuspected depths to babies, at least to this particular, high-quality baby: kelp-and-tofu vanquishing, pizza-enabling, matchmaking...

Matchmaking. Next time Elspeth showed up for a little Blair-based babysitting, Jim was buying her _two_ binkies.

**Author's Note:**

>  _dajë_ \- uncle  
>  _zemra ime_ \- my heart
> 
> In the interests of full disclosure: I'm not Albanian - I hope my Google-Fu didn't lead me astray here. :-)


End file.
